I believe I may be one of a rare group of people who enjoy Monday mornings. On a Monday morning I have my adult creative Writing class. Students age from early twenties (depending who is there) to early seventies. My oldest has been attending class since November 2007, and during that time she has had two stories published and learnt how to use a computer. She inspires me (when I’m feeling low) by reflecting back what I have taught on better days, and sharing her experiences and wisdom.
I have heard writing teachers say they are amazed by the stories their students come up with – I am too. I have had ten year olds boys with plots for high-action movies, Hollywood producers would buy up in an instant. I tell the boys to keep their ideas safe and not tell a soul, then I tell myself that I MUST NOT STEAL THEM! Adults, too, write captivating, breath taking pieces in just twenty minutes. I know its only a beginning and they’re still lots of work to do, but I also know these students could write just as well as me, and better, if they chose to. But so many file their stories away, or even lose them, not believing that they’re worth the extra work – like a pile of wasted embyros.
It’s a pity that so often we can see the worth in other people’s work but find it, oh so, difficult to see it in our own, especially when writing is something that comes easily to us.
On that profound note I shall skip off to writing class to be inspired, and hopefully inspire.